A great selection of essays demonstrating the depth and breadth of Wendell Berry's wisdom. Though the collection is ostensibly about food and farming,A great selection of essays demonstrating the depth and breadth of Wendell Berry's wisdom. Though the collection is ostensibly about food and farming, Berry's view of the natural world, including humans, as one deeply interconnected and interdependent system extends his reach far beyond that realm. The final section included some non-fiction-- excerpts from Berry's novels and short stories that centered around meals-- and I have to say that his writing is not put to its best use in fiction. I'll be honest, I skipped most of that last section. His non-fiction writing, however, is exceptional, evoking a deep and often poetic appreciation of nature. His influences on Michael Pollan (as conceded by the latter in the foreword) are as apparent as the influences he has taken from Henry David Thoreau, and I find my own views resonating beautifully with this lineage of thoughtfulness about an often overlooked but utterly central aspect of human life....more

Full disclosure: I only made it 102 pages in before I had to stop.Maybe I've been spoiled by Michael Pollan's phenomenal prose. Maybe business historyFull disclosure: I only made it 102 pages in before I had to stop.Maybe I've been spoiled by Michael Pollan's phenomenal prose. Maybe business history writing is just not for me. Or maybe this is a poorly written and edited book.

The writing is mediocre, resorting too often to catchy journalistic phrasing, fluff quotes from interviewees (e.g., "X really drove the industry at the time!" after a paragraph about how X drove the industry), and ultimately meaningless decontextualized numbers where descriptive words would have driven the point home with less ambiguity. The author occasionally makes sloppy errors of continuity (e.g., "Not only did X do Y; he was really important in making Y a thing," followed by entirely no mention of what else X did) and more generally shows a disregard for the reader's ability to follow. You would expect a book like this to follow either a linear timeline or a linear string of characters, in order to tell its complicated story. Moss does neither, but instead hops between characters and bounces forward and backward in time at will. The result is a dry, convoluted web that lends itself poorly to more than a surface appreciation. Toward the end of my attempt at reading, I skipped over a paragraph here and there and found that my capacity to follow the events portrayed was about as good (i.e., not terribly good) as it was when I was reading every word. This is a serious indictment of the quality of the writing, and it's a bit unforgivable in a book so overladen with different faces and voices, spanning several decades and several companies' histories. The requisite cohesion just isn't there.

The cherry on top of my personal NopeCake here was Moss's fairly regular use of "math" to talk about mathematics. "X used his high math to discover Y." His high MATH? Singular math? I mean, never mind that calling statistics "high math" as an alternative to finding a lay-friendly way to explain them is lazy and hand-wavy in the extreme, but "his SINGULAR MATH"!? Nooooooooope.

The real pity here is that I'm extremely interested in the topic. The delivery was just so abhorrent that I couldn't justify continued attempts to learn....more

A quick read (30 minutes?), valuable as a sharp reminder of the basic nutritional facts you probably already knew on some level. Pollan's no-nonsenseA quick read (30 minutes?), valuable as a sharp reminder of the basic nutritional facts you probably already knew on some level. Pollan's no-nonsense condensing of the information is likely to serve as an effective bop on the nose for eaters who should really know better, if only they'd listened to the common sense of older generations for whom food was a simpler but more thoughtful luxury. Even so, there were some facts I hadn't thought about myself, but in hindsight probably should have, such as the over-processing of soy products marketed at vegetarians like me. I'll be more mindful of that from now on.

There's a point of pride in realizing the extent to which I already adhere to much of this dietary wisdom, but aside from stoking my ego I think the book could find good use as a straightforward and perhaps usefully alarming wakeup call for less conscientious eaters....more

Michael Pollan is swiftly solidifying his position as "somebody I want to know." He's a clever writer, an inquisitive journalist, and a creative storyMichael Pollan is swiftly solidifying his position as "somebody I want to know." He's a clever writer, an inquisitive journalist, and a creative storyteller, as well as a shining light of simple food consciousness in an era of either not asking at all or asking far too much.

This book is equal parts natural history, social history, regular history, botanical musing, plant biology, evolutionary theory, and psychology, with a smattering of classical mythology, memoir, neuroscience, and investigative journalism to hold the threads together. Pollan sets out with the aim of tracking four plants along their coevolution with society, tying each to a human desire that shaped it into what it is today: the apple and sweetness, the tulip and beauty, marijuana and intoxication, and potatoes and control. What he ends up writing from this neat little package of a thesis is something much greater than the sum of its parts, a veritable exploration (I use the word a lot but I think it really applies here) of what it means to be human in a determinedly natural world.

One of the ideas he returns to often is that our relationship to the natural world is a balancing of Apollonian (controlled, geometric, structured, artificial) and Dionysian (frenetic, shifting, chaotic, and natural) forces, and I think he really hit the nail on the head with the notion as much as with the conclusion that it's a much more complicated relationship than it first appears. The complexity of the question is due in part to the many human urges (such as morality) that don't fit cleanly in either camp, and in part to the ambiguity of the agent in control within the framework of nature's chaos. It's an impressively thoughtful approach, and the broad reach allowed by a philosophical, as opposed to purely scientific, foundation means the reader gets to learn a little about a lot along the way.

I won't spoil anyone's enjoyment of the book by divulging details of HOW each plant and desire is examined, but I will assure you that the how is not as straightforward and easy as you'd expect. This is becoming a mark of Pollan's writing as much as it always has been a hallmark of great writing: a clear and simple idea considered with breadth and depth in a manner so well-organized that you don't realize how much you're learning until you're done. I cannot wait to read more of his work....more

Michael Pollan proves himself once again as a prodigious mind and a bastion of honest journalism in the sea of lies, double-talk, cover-up, and marketMichael Pollan proves himself once again as a prodigious mind and a bastion of honest journalism in the sea of lies, double-talk, cover-up, and marketing that surround the food industry. This book documents an insightful and often alarming collection of journeys through the food chain, following different pathways of food sources from the starting line to the dinner table. Running the gamut from the highly industrialized, government-subsidized, and deeply impersonal ecological nightmare that brings us processed and fast foods, down to the gritty and very personal realities of a hunter-forager lifestyle, Pollan's exploration is as thorough as it is fair. It's clear that while he has an opinion, he is not writing to push any agenda and is quite willing to have his views changed by what he learns. That he then shares what he's learned and encourages his readers to decide for themselves is a rare openness in what is often a heated and divisive topic.

It's so refreshing to see a writer of non-fiction admitting his ignorance and then striving to solve it, heartening to see someone so evidently concerned with environmental issues nevertheless give a balanced consideration of the real benefits of unsustainable farming (namely, it feeds a lot of people), and contagiously thought-provoking to see such breadth and depth of thought given over to food. It certainly doesn't hurt that Pollan is a great writer, hitting humour and tragedy at all the right moments and letting the facts speak solemnly for themselves when they should, and a phenomenally engaging storyteller.

Rather than hear my thoughts on the various sections of the book (though, spoilers, the part about sustainable polyculture farms blew me away and brought me nostalgically back to an age when I naively believed all farming to be like that), I really encourage anyone interested in Pollan's work to just read it themselves. You won't regret taking the time, and his full treatment will be in any case far more interesting than my summary.

If you're interested in how food happens, but don't want to be emotionally manipulated into an opinion, this is the book for you....more

Sort of an elaborated version of Pollan's Food Rules: An Eater's Manual, which I had mistakenly read first, this one didn't add too much *new* informaSort of an elaborated version of Pollan's Food Rules: An Eater's Manual, which I had mistakenly read first, this one didn't add too much *new* information above and beyond what I'd learned from previous reads, whether of his or of someone else's. Nevertheless, I appreciate the full treatment given to the vital but oft-unheeded battlecry: the Western diet is killing us only slightly slower than it can spread its fingers into new hearts and minds and stomachs around the world-- an insidious promise of easy short-term gratification (economic, caloric, and political) without consideration for the enormous long-term havoc being wrought on ecosystems at all levels of analysis. He moreover ties the myriad major American industries together into what might be the greatest unplanned money-making scheme in human history, as measured by breadth, depth, growth and duration, a symbiotic market that fattens itself in perpetuity on the shoulders of its consumers (the world's first real soylent?).

The scope of the issue is really laid bare in this careful and probably, to be honest, conservative criticism of nutritionism, the young quasi-science that is stretching well beyond its current capabilities to influence public food and health policies in alarming ways. A clever mirror against the reductionist tendencies of the budding field, Pollan shifts blame for modern endemics (obesity, diabetes, depression, heart disease...) from one likely factor to the next, to eventually strike upon the broader picture of what culture and evolution have to say about diet as a whole.

Whereas a lazier author could easily have spun this yarn of legitimate concern into a web of alarmist nightmare, Pollan is careful to offer solutions within full reach of the reader. He details with simplicity the thankful fact that what is best for your health is commonly in harmony with what is best for the environment, from soil to chemical waste, and bluntly points out that every consumer of a vital resource cast votes for the future with the every purchasing choice made. He cites the rise of community supported agriculture programs-- a local example of which I am proud to be a part--, the desperation of food processors to maintain a growing veneer of health-consciousness, the growth of organic produce at both public market and private garden scales, and the steadfast persistence of some traditional food cultures in the face of fast food's yawning reach, as some examples that all hope is not yet lost. I, for one, submit as further evidence the popularity of Pollan's incisive and tremendously readable critiques. I'll continue to vote with my stomach and my money, and will do so more simply and intelligently than before thanks to the insights garnered from these books....more

This was one of the more enjoyable issues to read since the magazine's inception. Though light on recipes (especially vegetarian-friendly recipes), foThis was one of the more enjoyable issues to read since the magazine's inception. Though light on recipes (especially vegetarian-friendly recipes), for once it felt like every written piece hit the topic spot-on-- perhaps with the exception of the trying-too-hard-to-be-weird fiction piece by Jack Pendarvis. Granted, the topic of travel is a broad one, but the editors did a great job of choosing a variety: travelogues, memoirs, tours through hidden culinary gems, quests for traditional fare in a world catered to comforting tourists, travel advice pieces, and so on. Particularly notable were Greg Larson's unsettling recounting of his guided tour through North Korea, Harold McGee's (of course!) chemistry piece on cooking with plastics, Adam Gollner's rather poetic memoir of Crete and the persistence of a tradition of abundance in a time of crisis, and Jack Carneal's reflection on the culinary importance of getting lost.

When I read this issue, I had just come back from my own vacation in Europe, and much of the feel of the issue reflected my personal approach to travel: go somewhere new, walk around, get lost, eat good food, never eat at the same place twice. Ask, try, stumble blindly into new places, and taste with an open mind. It felt like an issue written just for me, and provided some insight on where to travel next.

Moreover, THERE IS A RECIPE FOR MOCHI. I had never thought to make my own mochi before, but you'd better believe I will now....more

What an interesting issue! Boldly blending terrifying pre-apocalyptic fact-- dwindling oceans, soil erosion and limited agricultural resources, the slWhat an interesting issue! Boldly blending terrifying pre-apocalyptic fact-- dwindling oceans, soil erosion and limited agricultural resources, the slow disappearance of whole species of plant and animal life-- with a whimsical array of post-apocalyptic fiction, both projected and purely imagined, the reader is taken from the present into the potential future and the struggles that await us there.

Michael Pollan's opening piece, a frank discussion of sustainability that hit me right in the gut, was an important piece of journalism that reminded me I need to read his books. Sustainability is the proverbial axe we hold over our own heads that finally made me drop meat from my diet a year ago, and I was thrilled to see so much of the volume devoted to alternatives: a number of pieces on canning, jarring, pickling, and otherwise preserving food; pieces on self-sufficient gardening and seed breeding; articles on sustainable ocean-farming as a contrast to large-scale fishing and trawling; elaborate sets of instructions for baking bread, making butter, and procuring salt in a world without our current modern comforts and shortcuts; and a very interesting piece on collecting wild honey.... all alongside the relevant recipes, of course.

The thing that I so love about Lucky Peach is the barrier-free access to minds and hands that have tried and failed and can tell you what they've learned, can show you: yes, you can do this yourself. You can make this dish. You can perform this culinary technique. Here's how. And this issue really hit that note hard, for obvious reasons.

I want to make my own jams. I want to get the courage to someday find a wild beehive and make my own honey. And I probably will.

The fictional piece by Bill Cotter, moreover, was phenomenal. Better than LP fiction usually is. Total shivers. No spoilers. Just read it....more

This issue felt more hit-and-miss than previous issues, perhaps because of my limited experience with and prior knowledge of Chinese cuisine beyond whThis issue felt more hit-and-miss than previous issues, perhaps because of my limited experience with and prior knowledge of Chinese cuisine beyond what's available in my immigrant-laden city-- it's almost as though the depth of selection for any one ethnic cuisine is sacrificed for the breadth of different cuisines and cultures we host here. Regardless, there were a few pieces that struck gold with me:

Harold McGee's article on home rice wine fermentation was, as his pieces usually are, phenomenally interesting and informative. I can't NOT try to make rice wine now, though I'll be surprised if it's anywhere near as easy as he makes it sound.... I mean, the man is a prodigy of culinary chemistry. And I am decidedly not.

Peter Meehan's reflections on ginseng ("shang") root as a recreational drug was equal parts amusing, terrifying, and intriguing. Who knew that so many chefs were users in their own kitchens (and resourceful ones at that)?

Nelly Reifler's short fiction was as enthralling as it was inscrutable, and though I left feeling like I missed some key allegorical reference by virtue of my inexperience with Chinatown culture, I enjoyed the ride tremendously. She's got a great voice, and I think I'll look into more of her work.

And finally, the faux-journalistic piece on tomatoes in China by the cleverly named "Syd Fynch," a reference I didn't piece together until I wiki'd the name later, had my rapt attention from start to finish. By far my favourite piece of the issue, the delightful combination of spectacular narrative and compelling academic theory (as it were) was a thrill to read. And they totally got me with it. Bravo to whoever actually wrote it ;)...more

A rare work of nonfiction, as fascinating as it is horrific. Jonathan Safran Foer deftly dismantles the seedy underbelly of the system that ostensiblyA rare work of nonfiction, as fascinating as it is horrific. Jonathan Safran Foer deftly dismantles the seedy underbelly of the system that ostensibly keeps us alive at the expense of nonhuman creatures, exploring its nature and historical precedence, as well as its myriad impacts on human society, economy, ecology, environment, morality, and global sustainability. Foer is a remarkably sharp writer, and he wisely opted to tackle these difficult issues from a perspective he understands well: storytelling.

Instead of laying out facts and statistics (of which there are many, even in this book) to overwhelm the reader-- as we all know deep down, the way our food arrives on our plates is an unpleasant and gruesome reality-- Foer focuses on the stories that we tell one another and ourselves in order to maintain the gustatory tradition of eating animals. He explores the history of tradition from both global and personal angles, the psychology of willful ignorance, the mentality of humane ranchers (i.e., non-factory farmers; a dying breed), and the reasoning that led him personally to vegetarianism. All topics are tackled with reference to this idea of storytelling. The choices we make about food necessarily involve the people around us, and the stories we choose to tell (or, alternately, choose not to tell or listen to) impact our own views as much as the views of those around us. Ultimately, these stories shape the traditions and policies that drive the food industry.

I'd recently transitioned to vegetarianism, for ethical, practical, and environmental reasons, and this book solidified my personal views on the matter. More than that, however, it convinced me that not talking about my views would be foolish. These are stories that need to be told, for the sake of future generations who may be forced to live in a world left barren by the unsustainable farming practices of our generation....more

This was probably the first Lucky Peach issue to enthrall me from start to finish, and I took a few moments afterward to try to figure out why. AfterThis was probably the first Lucky Peach issue to enthrall me from start to finish, and I took a few moments afterward to try to figure out why. After all, I'm not American. I don't even like a lot of the classically American foods explored in the issue. Hot dogs are alright, fried chicken I could take or leave, most American sandwiches have infinitely more mayonnaise than I'm willing to put near my mouth... I'm certainly a bigger fan of ramen (issue 1) or fresh fish (issue 2). Why this issue?

And I decided that the answer is almost entirely psychological: comfort, nostalgia, and ritual.

This issue is bursting at the seams with those three elements, and the result is more a labour of love than any of the issues that came before; whereas those felt driven by a single-minded and lightly pedantic passion for a focused topic, this issue felt free to wander around the country and all the diverse things it means to the different people walking it, gastronomically.

Elvis Mitchell's analysis of food in film (with a focus on Tarantino) and the psychological niche that food fills in movies on was positively spot-on; Harold McGee's article on peeling eggs was not only scientifically fascinating, but also hit on exactly the thing that's been bothering me when I make soft boiled eggs (his solution is so labour-intensive that I'm not sure I'll be using it, but it was great to find out anyhow); Ben Wolfe's microbiological exploration of what makes salami around the country taste so broadly different was educational (spoiler: it's microbes) and illustrated how the scientific method can be applied with great effect to everyday curiosities; Daniel Patterson, John Haskell, Marc Maron, and David Simon each provide highly personal but somehow emotionally universal memoirs about their nostalgic foods and haunts; Nozlee Samadzadeh expertly tackles the issue of invasive species in America and shows how savvy chefs are trying to solve it; and Jonathan Prince explores the fate of politicians making small town food photo-op gaffes.

The collection is varied and the passion clearly runs deep for every writer. The end result is this really interesting dissection of the feeling of HOME and how that feeling can be injected into food, no matter what the food is, because of the tradition surrounding it. Coupled with some really great recipes of course, this issue really shines apart from its predecessors. Though pierogi were mentioned nowhere within it, the evocation of "home" filled me with a craving I may have to fill... excuse me......more

Not being a chef, aspiring chef, or line cook, I had little to connect with in this issue of McSweeney's otherwise extraordinary food magazine; the apNot being a chef, aspiring chef, or line cook, I had little to connect with in this issue of McSweeney's otherwise extraordinary food magazine; the appreciation of good food is more relevant to me than the appreciation of working your way up the restaurant ladder the hard way, the revelry in name-dropping, or the reminiscence of late nights with world-renowned chefs whose name and work I am personally unfamiliar with, being a cognitive scientist in the middle of Canada. There was too little of the former in this issue, and I'll be frank in saying that certain pieces had the ring of in group back-patting, and more pretension than most other McSweeney's material I've read-- though I appreciate that those in the restaurant industry would connect with the sentiments contained within.

The bafflingly off-topic postmodern essay on the decline of Austrian art and politics was most difficult to stomach, in terms of both style and content. It didn't actually seem to have much to say about cooking, apart from painfully banal analogies to the decline of cooking decried (with more heart and honesty) by Chang in the article preceding it. It struck me as a lazy and self-congratulatory inclusion.

Likewise, the series of interviews with various cooks from all walks of life was a disappointment. I'd come to expect more from Lucky Peach than the same stock, facile interview questions put to 6 different people; more personal and involved questions would have served the segment immensely.

Some highlights for me were the recipes (of course) and Karen Liebowitz's piece on the psychology of "personal" cooking (of course)....more

Another wonderful issue full of good food and good ideas from people who really care about good food. I particularly enjoyed the piece on personal andAnother wonderful issue full of good food and good ideas from people who really care about good food. I particularly enjoyed the piece on personal and professional peaks and the psychology behind the idea that you will have some point in your life at which you will be better than you will ever be again, and it will end. That was extremely fascinating to me, and Michael Ames wrote it well.

As always, David Chang and Peter Meehan are hilarious, and Harold McGee never fails to impress with his biological insight (I'm a scientist. I can't help that it excites me more than poetic descriptions ever could). The article on the insular cortex was equally appealing to me, though it was pretty basic neuroscience for my tastes and it sadly did not teach me anything I didn't already know-- I don't hold that against the author, as he presents the information well for neuro-noobs. I'm really looking forward to trying out Christina Tosi's recipes, since I love making desserts, but I kind of wish that there were more recipes I *could* try out. Whereas the first issue was packed with accesible ideas, this issue seems to focus on dishes that take professional ingredients, instruments, or techniques; it creates a barrier for entry that I'm not sure I have the confidence to push.

Regardless, I enjoyed the issue wholeheartedly. I think I enjoy Lucky Peach more for the thoughtful conversations about food than for the food itself, and this second issue did not fail on that front. Not to mention those amazing fruit stickers.... I foresee some grocery store mischief in my near future.